Purpose is elusive.
Not a glimpse have I caught.

I imagine it similar to
Assembling a wrist watch
With ultimate precision
Master craftsmanship
Total care.
But forsaking the hands


It functions perfectly
Ticks as it would
Not a second fast
But the face is bare.
It says nothing.
Hold it up to your ear
& listen to its fruitless efforts.
Wrap it round your wrist
& you’ve got
Dead weight.


I am flesh & bone
These efforts start to drag
The tick takes on a sombre tone
& the face still cannot inform me.


I am no machine
I will grow frail
I will succumb to time
& I will cease
To exist.

For what purpose.




Published by Lobster Thoughts

Poetic expression and general madness.

2 thoughts on “Purpose.

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